Sometimes Night is Better
by gcblinkgirl88
Summary: It's been three days since Seth left, and he can't take it anymore. He takes an escape, leaving his parents, having permanently lost one son, with the other ignoring their persistent phone calls, to pick up the pieces.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own The O.C., what more can I say?

Sometimes Night is Better

He had been gone three days when the urge hit him again. Another pang of pain, this one deeper than each before it. The unvoluntary tear or two slid down his face, and he bowed his head, though he knew there was no one to see him. He may be a coward, but he still had his dignity. After a minute of this silent crying he sat up straighter, stared out at the horizon. And tensed. He could be strong. He could survive. _No_-- the inner voice, his soul, resisted his attempts._You cannot survive.You can't go back to the way you were last summer, before all of this. _For several fleeting months, he had it all-- the best brother in the world, and the best girl in the world. The girl. The one he'd loved since he was just a little kid, getting laughed at as he offered her a bouquet of limp dandielions.She'd waved him away, but not before he saw something. And that something was enough to give him hope for a decade, that conviction that she'd come around. She had, and he left. But his brother had left too. His brother left, playing the hero, being noble, sacrificing everything for a maybe. He because he was a coward.

Yet another wave of remorse wracked his body, and he no longer tried to be brave. He sobbed, pressing at his eyes with calloused palms, attempting to push his tears back in. He couldn't do this anymore. He was tired of being strong. He rooted through the knapsack he'd packed, pulling spare shirts and shorts and the odd pair of boxers. Frustrated, he fliiped the bag over and shook it, watching as everything rained down on the deck. He saw a slilver gleam, and smiled cruelly to himself. Finally. He ran his fingers over the smooth red plastic surface, then dug a fingernail in a notch on the side. His Swiss Army knife. As he forced the blade open, he felt the tremor of fear, but it soon disappeared. With a few swipes on one wrist, he felt his pain escape, felt it course out of his heart, out of his body, into the water. He sliced the other wrist, then twisted so he could dangle his arms out of the boat. He could see the rising sun, blood red as it peeked over the horizon, and he looked down at the water. Where red wisps danced, curled, circled, and dissapated. And then he did too, slipping back into his boat, smears of red marking the trail of his hands. As the cotton candy pink clouds of sunrise soared above, Seth drifted off into his own night.

Kirsten slumped at her table, one hand grasping her note as if it were her son herself, the other curving around a mug of coffee. Sandy watched her sadly from the other side of the table, watching the remains of a once beautiful woman, broken as her heart was. He could feel his own breaking, and knew that it wouldn't be too long before he too grew lackadasical and forlorn. Sighing into his own mug, he picked up the cordless phone that had followed him through the house ever since they had stumbled upon the notes, one for him and Kirsten, the other for Summer. He ran a finger over the numbers, and as he recalled one number in particular, the phone rang, the shrillness of its voice startling Kirsten. Sandy fumbled, but quickly hit the "Talk" button.

"Hello?"

"Sanford Cohen?"

"Yes, that's me."

The voice on the other end sighed. "Sir, I'm from the Coast Guard. I'm afraid I have some bad news ab-"

"Seth? About my son? Where is he? Is he okay? I could kill him-"

"Sir? Your son's boat was found just minutes ago at sea..."

He furrowed his brows. His boat? What about Seth? His mind raced with possibilities, ignoring whatever the man was saying.

"...too late. I'm sorry sir."

And then the words sank in. "No..." Sandy felt this blow to his chest, someone had to have punched him, he couldn't breathe, couldn't form words. He hung up the phone, and collapsed.

Kirsten had been watching, having perked up at the sound of the phone. It had to be the police or the Coast Guard, based on Sandy's responses. She saw a realization dawn on him, his mouth forming that single, awful, common word, him fall, broken. Like she was. She ran to him. If he could no longer be strong, then she'd have to be. "Sandy? What is it? What's wrong."

He whispered to her, and her blood ran cold. She sank down next to him, and he held her, if but for one minute before rising. They had calls to make.

"He'll come back, Coop. I know it. Ryan too." Summer sounded confidant, but underneath it all, she was unsure. Her facade was not only for the good of her friend, falling faster into a pit of despair, but her as well. If she belived he'd come back, he would. She offered no proof but a note, hurriedly scribbled in black marker. "He told me he loves me."

Summer could almost smell the tears from her bed, though Marissa was miles away, their only connection through phone lines. "Yeah? Well Ryan didn't." Bitterness was thick in her voice, and she grew frustrated with her friend. Her boyfriend had left on a boat, left her a note, told her that he loved her in said note. Marissa's boyfriend, on the other hand, had left to have a baby with another woman, had barely left with a goodbye, and hadn't repeated the three little words she whispered as they danced a farewell dance at her mother's wedding. Annoyance built up, and she slammed her phone shut.

It was much later in the evening when she next opened it, and this time she forced herself to put on a smile for Summer. "Sum? Guess what. Seth's coming home."

She almost wore a geniune smile as she relayed the conversation between Caleb and Julie she'd stumbled into.

She hadn't really understood all of it, since Caleb's narrative was punctuated with "Poor Kirsten"'s from her mother. Marissa assumed it was because both Ryan and Seth left. She'd heard a date mentioned to, tomorrow's, and the name of a small airport nearby, and the offhanded comment, "I should be there, for support." Marissa theorized that this was to keep Kirsten sane. She'd overheard snide remarks from her mother about how Kirsten was "not holding up all that well."

"We should go there tomorrow and suprise Seth," Marissa announced, and Summer heartily agreed.

"I'm going to smack him, then hug him, or maybe the other way around," she smiled, lighting up at the prospect.

Kirsten and Sandy sat on identical hard plastic chairs, silent. "We should try Ryan again."

Sandy said nothing, just stared. As soon as they'd heard, they'd tried to get ahold of Ryan, but Theresa's mother always informed them that Ryan was either working, showering, or sleeping. There was always the promise that she'd have Ryan call them back, but he never did.

Kirsten sighed, needing something to do, and dialed the number. "Hi, this is Kirsten Cohen, is Ryan there?" She paused. "Oh." Her face fell. "Can you please have him call us? Its really important that I talk to him." She closed her found, and fidgeted with her sleeves a moment. "He's at work."

They sat in silence for a few minutes more, then were joined by Caleb. "I'm so sorry, Kirsten, Sandy." He figured that now wasn't the time for curtness.

"Mister and Missus Cohen?"

Summer and Marissa trailed Caleb, not wanting to be found and sent away. They paused around a corner as they saw Caleb join Sandy and Kirsten, who looked awful. A man approached the small group and led them off, and they followed suit.They walked through a small, bland corridor, and were led out a door, leading, it seemed, outside. Summer paused at the door which had shut before them, but Marissa encouraged her on. "Come on, Sum. If anyone asks we'll just tell them we're with Sandy and Kirsten, just running behind a bit." With that she pushed the door open, and was temporarily blinded by sunlight.

Sandy clutched Kirsten's hand as they followed the Coast Guard officer, who took them out onto tarmac, where a helicopter waited. A transport lurked nearby, and Kirsten bit her lip at the sight.

The man turned to face them again. "Now, we found ID on the body, but we're assuming you want to look at him?"

Sandy nodded.

"Okay." He turned around to the copter and said a few words at the opened doors, and then several Coast Guard officers in flight gear lifted a stretcher off.

"Oh my God!" Summer didn't mean to sound so shrill, nor did she want to, but at the sight of the black body back resting atop of the stretcher she couldn't help herself. "No, that's not Seth, is it? It can't be!"

The heads of everyone in the somber party turned to look at her. Kirsten had a pained look on her face, and calmly and sadly addressed Summer. "Honey, you shouldn't be here, who told you?"

Summer choked on her words. "M-Marissa. She heard Caleb and Julie. I didn't know he was- he was, well..." She let the sentence drift, not wanting to say the word that had formed on her lips. _Dead_. She heard soft sobs from next to her, and saw Marissa crying.

Marissa turned and ran back inside, mumbling.

Terrified, Summer took a step closer to the bag. "Can I...?"

Kirsten nodded, and as she stepped closer, Kirsten slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry." Kirsten knew she was genuine.

The bag was unzipped, just a little, and there, undeniably, was the boy all those who had gathered around, had known. Silence settled over them, and the only noises were the whipping of wind, the whirring of helicopter blades, the sharp gasps of breath as Kirsten and Summer sobbed silently. Tears trickled from Sandy's eyes, and Caleb expressed a stony grief.

_To be continued..._

**Author's Note:** Please read and review!


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